


Head

by BabyBat (BabyBatsCreations)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Bondage, Cannibalism, F/M, Forced Masturbation, Gore, Graphic Violence, Guro, Incest, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Necrophilia, Serial Killer Dean Winchester, Torture, brain fuck, fear kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25406683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyBatsCreations/pseuds/BabyBat
Summary: Sam has been following a trail of bodies for years now. Every body his brother drops, he's just a few steps behind, but he's finally catching up. The trouble is, he's playing right into his brother's hands and Dean has a few things he wants to show him.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	Head

**Author's Note:**

> Please. Read. The Tags. <3<3

Sam was so damn tired. It wasn't that he didn't have time to sleep. No, there was plenty of time between cases. The trouble was the cases themselves. He was following a trail. A bloody, disturbing, trail. Dean's trail.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw them. The men and women Dean had carved up, mutilated, tortured, and violated. He saw the woman who had been strangled with her husband's intestines. He saw the man who had been dismembered and bled out. The sisters he'd fed to each other. So no, Sam couldn't sleep. He'd seen a lot of terrible things in his time as a hunter, but his own brother was the most disturbing of them all.

He kept following the trail, barely awake, surviving on energy drinks. When Dean started leaving him messages, he almost missed the first one. Carved in the corner of the wall was their initials. The police would never have considered a detail like that. Sam touched the carving and found that the little block of wood was loose. He pulled it out and retched. Dean had given him the heart of his last victim. The one the police said was missing, though Sam had recognized it as part of Dean's pattern.

He was getting closer. The amount of time between the murders and Sam's arrival became smaller and smaller until he was walking active crime scenes along side local police. A woman who had been made to swallow her own tongue. A man who had died after Dean stuck about four-hundred-and-thirty nails into his body. And Dean leaving him notes.

"Ya close, Sammy?" said a note written in sharpie on a piece of skin peeled off a victim and left on the dining table.

"Can't wait, little brother..." was written on the bedroom wall in a woman's blood.

When he saw the woman's heart laying on the floor and an 'X' carved on her chest, he knew there would be something for him inside of her. In the empty cavity where her heart should be was a room key for a hotel. Obviously, Dean wouldn't be there. That was where the police would go. And they would likely find explosives or some other sort of trap waiting for them. Sam was too tired to worry about them. If they weren't smart enough to know it was a trap that was their problem.

Dean had left a phone book laying on the dining table. Sam opened it and memorized the address of the last hotel that was listed. He asked for the room under the last victim's name.

He found Dean sitting in the dark with a glass of whiskey.

"Right on time," he grinned. Sam didn't have time to react before Dean shot him with a tranquilizer and he fell asleep for the first time in so long.

He woke up, groggy from the tranq but still better rested than he had been in a long time. He was tied up with his hands behind his back. He smelled the basement before he saw it. It was dim, but he could make out shapes with the sliver of light that came in through a crack in a boarded up window. He heard sniffling and looked around to see a dirty leg poking out from the shadows. He couldn't see the rest of them.

"Hey," he whispered. "It's going to be okay. We're going to get out of here." He tried to slip the cuffs, but they were too tight. He grit his teeth, preparing to lose some skin as he pulled. He was just starting to bleed when the door at the top of the stairs opened.

"Rise and shine!" Dean called, thumping down the stairs.

The woman in the corner screamed, but she must have been gagged because it sounded muffled. She curled up in the shadowy corner where Sam couldn't see her anymore. Dean stopped in front of him.

"Hey, little brother. How ya feeling?" He crouched to meet his eye. "You sure slept a long time. I thought our friend might starve to death before you woke. You kept us waiting."

"Let her go, Dean. It's me you want. So deal with me. Not her."

"Oh, Sammy. Don't be so self important. This isn't all about you. It's also about me. And I have needs."

Sam cringed at the suggestive tone. Dean walked away and the woman in the corner sobbed and screamed. He couldn't see but he heard chains click and rattle. Then she was tossed to the middle of the floor. Her skin was stained with dirt and her hair was matted. She raised her bound hands as if to keep Dean at bay.

"Leave her alone!" Sam screamed and pulled on his cuffs, but he couldn't get loose.

"Isn't this why you came after me? You wanted to see me in action, right?" Dean waggled his eyebrows at Sam. Then he jumped on top of the woman, laughing as she thrashed. He straddled her hips and tucked her hands down under his knees, trapped under his weight.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. We're gonna take it slow. I want Sammy to enjoy this. Really savor the moment."

He took out a knife and Sam and woman both screamed. "Oh, shut up! The both of you." His fist connected with the woman's face and they both went silent aside from a few choked sobs she couldn't hold in.

"Better. Now, you must be hungry." He cut open her shirt as she cried. Then he dug his knife into her chest. She sobbed as Dean carved out a chunk of her flesh. He pulled the gag from her mouth.

"Open up!" he grinned.

"Dean, stop!" Sam yelled, but of course he didn't listen. He didn't care.

She held her jaw clenched.

"Now, don't be like that, sweetheart. You want to live don't you?"

She nodded, squeezing her eyes closed. Sam wondered how long she could hold out before she went into shock. She seemed strong, which only meant Dean could torture her longer.

"Just kill her. You're going to anyway," Sam spat.

"No," she gasped, turning her head away to cry into the floor.

"Aw, Sammy. You made her cry. Hey, hunny, no. Don't listen to my brother. He's an asshole. I mean, I am gonna kill you, but look. If you do what I say it'll take longer. And maybe Sammy will figure out how to get out of those cuffs and rescue you. Won't that be nice?"

"Yes..." she whimpered.

"Then open up," he snarled.

Sobbing she opened her mouth and let Dean stuffed her own flesh inside. She swallowed it down, immediately gagging, but she impressed Sam by not throwing it back up.

"You had your fun..." Sam said. His only hope now was let her die quickly. Let Dean turn his attention to him. Let him find a chance to turn the tables.

"Fun? Sammy, I'm just getting started." He turned back to the woman who couldn't quite meet his eye. "Hammer or drill?"

She sobbed.

"Don't worry. I'll pick for you. Or maybe Sammy would like to contribute."

He shook his head. "Just don't. Don't act like anyone has a choice but you."

"The end result is all the same, but sometimes its fun to give people what they want. Hammer or drill?"

"Go to hell."

Dean grinned. "Aren't we there already?" He looked at the woman. He grabbed her chin in his hand. "If you move, you will regret it. Do you understand?"

She nodded, shaking in his grasp.

"I said, do you understand?!" he screamed in her face, turning her again into a sobbing mess.

"Yes, yes please, don't hurt me-"

Dean shoved her back knocking her head into the floor. It worked to quiet her. Then he was on his feet, leaving her free on the floor. She looked at him. He shook his head. Don't move, he thought. You'll regret it.

She didn't understand.

She got up from the floor and grabbed for the first thing she saw, a splintered wooden board. Dean turned, drill in his hand. Gritting her teeth she stepped up and swung. Dean was too fast for her. He stepped inside her reach, squeezing the trigger of the drill. He rammed his arm forward and the drill bit went into her forehead.

She screamed and dropped the board, but she didn't have enough time to react before the drill broke through her skull and into her brain. It was a long, gruesome, minute before she stopped screaming. She was still twitching when she dropped to the ground.

"Son of a bitch," Dean groaned.

Sam retched, but nothing came up. "Don't act like you weren't going to kill her," he panted. The woman's scream was still playing through his mind making his ears ring.

"Yeah, but it was gonna take longer. It just pissed me off that she thought she could get away."

"Really? You didn't think she would even try? How many people have you killed?"

Dean shrugged. He dropped down onto his knees and rolled the woman onto her back. He craddled her head in his lap.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Dean grinned at his brother. "All the screaming got me nice and hard. Shouldn’t let a wet hole go to waste."

"Don't-"

Dean put the drill to her head and turned it back on. Sam cringed, but he couldn't take his eyes away. Using the drill, he slowly widened the hole causing blood and brain to spray out. Once he made it big enough for what Sam hoped to God he wasn’t going to do, he set the drill down.

Dean smirked, pulling down the zipper of his jeans.

"Don't..." Sam shook his head. "Dean, don't."

"Don't be a prude, Sammy. We both know this ain't my first time." He pulled his cock from his jeans and let it rest on the woman's face, covering one wide open eye. Sam swallowed down bile.

Dean moved, positioning himself to straddle her head, facing Sam so he could see. "Open wide, baby."

Her head made a wet squishing sound as he push his cock into the wound. He sighed. "Ah, yeah. That's the good stuff. Not as tight as a cunt, but just as hot and wet." He groaned, bottoming out with his balls on her forehead and his dick buried her brain. Sam couldn't look away, but fuck he wanted to.

Every moment came with wet squishing. He could see the blood and brain matter stuck to his brother's cock. Making it infinitely worse as only Dean could, he was watching Sam, grinning from ear to ear.

"You like watching, Sammy? I know you do. That's why you never caught me. Why you're only here now because I invited you. You like seeing the presents I leave for you. You just don't wanna think about how they got like that." He groaned, pushing in deep. He was going faster now, like he was actually enjoying it. Sam was disgusted all over again. He'd let himself believe that it was all for show, but Dean was moaning now like he was close.

"You're fucking sick," Sam spat.

"Fuck yeah, talk dirty to me, Sammy." He groaned. His tongue swiped over his lips and his head dropped back on his shoulders. His pleasured groan was more of an animalistic growl. He held his cock buried to the base inside her head. He let her head drop to the floor. Sam could see white mixing with red. He turned his face away.

"Mm, Sammy. You want some?"

Sam refused to look until he heard Dean get from the floor. He walked away and picked up a rusted out machete. Sam turned his head as he chopped through the woman's neck in too blows. He felt blood splash onto his clothes.

"Didn't do all this work so you could turn your nose up at it. Thought we could finally have some brotherly bonding time. Share a moment you know."

"I think we've done enough sharing."

"Oh, not yet we haven't."

Rope. Somehow Sam had missed the rope that Dean had in his hands. He grabbed his ankle, bending his leg back and tying it to the post behind him. Sam didn't make it easy. He squirmed and kicked and almost managed to nail him in the head.

"Hold the fuck still!"

"Like I'm gonna just let you tie me up!" He kicked again, hitting Dean in the shoulder.

His brother's hand grabbed his throat. "What do you think you're going to do, Sam?

Even if you make it out of those ties you won't kill me. The best you could do is knock me out and then what? The rich mother fuckers that own this place put a key pad on the basement door. How many combinations do you think there are for a six digit pin? Think you'll figure it before you starve to death?"

Glaring and grinding his teeth, he let his brother tie him, frog-legged, to the post. He could wiggle, but he couldn't kick. He couldn't stop him. At least if Dean were entertained here then he wasn’t out killing anyone.

He shuddered when Dean's hand touched his crotch, pressing down between his legs.

"What the hell are you doing? Stop!"

Dean only laughed. "Oh I knew it. You couldn't find me because you were busy jacking off over corpses."

"I wasn't-"

"No, you probably waited until you left the crime scene, the morgue, whatever. But you sure as shit had your hand on your dick while you thought about it." He smirked. "Many crime scene photos have you stained with jizz, jacking off in some motel room over a case file. You fucking sicko."

Sam closed his eyes. He wasn't wrong, but fuck he wished he was. He wasn't like his brother. He was sick and he was sucked up and he deserved only the worst in life, but he would never act on his fantasies. Worse than the corpses was how often he thought about watching Dean doing his thing while he jacks off on the corner. Dean's hand rubbing his cock felt so much better than it should. And yes, he had been half hard since the moment he watched Dean first straddle that screaming woman.

"Look at me, Sammy." His voice was gentle. So soft, so much like he used to be that Sam thought he was dreaming. He didn't open his eyes right away. He hoped to hear his brother talk kindly to him the way he used to.

"Sam..."

He looked. The cruel, insane, grin on his face had turned to something softer. Something more affectionate.

"I don't think you're sick, Sam. I think you're you. I think you're perfect. You are who you are and I love that about you, man."

Dean's breath was warm on his face. Their noses were almost touching. He wanted to give in. He wanted Dean to wrap him in warmth. He'd been cold and alone for so long. So many years. But he still believed he could be better.

"Is this your big 'come to the dark side' speech? Because it sucks?"

His mouth twitched. "We're letting the bitch get cold."

He turned away and picked up the head left on the floor. He turned her face toward Sam and he flinched at the sight of her open, glassy, eyes and open mouth. He face was trapped permanently in an expression of horror. Blood had ran down his skin in streams and her neck was broken and mashed when Dean cut it with the dull blade.

He was so distracted that he missed Dean pulling the pocket knife from his jeans. He set the head down against the inside of Sam's thigh. Then he grabbed at the material covering Sam's groin and slashed it with the knife.

Sam yelped, vulnerable bit terrifyingly close to sharp metal. Dean smirked, tearing and cutting until cold basement air touched his exposed cock and balls. Dean dropped the knife and spit into his hand.

"Can't please a woman with a shriveled cock. Thought I taught you better than that."

Sam hissed as his brother's hand wrapped around him. He tried to pull away but there was no where to go.

"Give her a kiss, Sammy." He stuck the head in his face and Sam turned away. Dean laughed.

"Mm, remember how she screamed for me? Remember that sound she made when I cut into her?" He moaned. "Fuck, how about when that drill was in her head and she wasn’t dying fast enough? How long do you think she was alive while her brain was getting drilled? It took what, twenty seconds for her to drop? Must have hurt like nothing else."

Sam panted, eyes squeezed shut. He tried to think about anything else, but Dean kept talking and all he could think about was screaming torture. He was wasn’t just getting hard. He was getting close.

Dean's hand went away and Sam's hips twitched. A little bit escaped and he bit down on his lip to cut it off.

"Ready for your first taste of corpse?"

"Dean please don't?" He opened his eyes, pleading, but his brother looked so pleased with himself.

"It's gonna feel so good, Sammy. You're gonna love it."

"No!" Sam screamed, but the feeling of warm and wet, cut him off. He nearly moaned before he could clamp his mouth shut. He could only sob and gasp.

It was squishy and disgusting and starting to cool. It was everything he dreamed of. He loved it.

Dean used the severed head like a flesh light, moving it up and down, coating Sam's hard cock in blood and brains.

"Look, Sammy. You don't wanna miss your first time do you?"

He really didn't. He needed to see. He peeked open his eye. Most of what he saw was the back of her head, but when Dean pulled the head up and he angled it so he could see the hole, mashed and broken and goopy. A choking sound slipped out as he pushed it down this time, encasing his cock in human brains.

"The only thing better is knowing you took a life yourself. Being the whole who did the killing, the torturing. There's nothing like hot blood on your hands, Sammy."

He whimpered, watching his brother watch him. He didn't want it. He didn't want to cum in some woman's broken skull. He didn't want to think about how much it turned him on that he couldn't save her.

"Dean," he gasped.

"That's it. Be a good boy, Sammy. Let it feel good. Give in." He was leaning towards him now, returning warmth to his skin with his own warm breath. His lips touched Sam's and he thought about the moment they didn't speak of, the memory he buried. The time when he was eighteen and leaving for college and Dean tried to stop him with a kiss. And he'd blamed himself when Dean went on a killing spreed because what it was his fault.

"Dean," he gasped again, against his brother's mouth.

"Shh, it's okay, Sammy. I got you." He kissed him again and it was too much. Sm groaned, hips bucking, burying his cock in gore and brains, cumming inside the broken, near hollowed-out shell of a skull.

After a moment Dean tossed the head away. His hands cupped Sam's face and he kissed him like he was starving. Sam trembled and cried, but he kissed him back.

Dean pulled back, holding him with a hand on his cheek and one on his neck. He was warm. So warm. "It's okay, Sammy. We're okay. No more running. Stay with me now."

**Author's Note:**

> [My Pillowfort](http://pillowfort.social/babybatscreations)


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